


I Bloom Just For You

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Clark would like to believe he knows Julian pretty well.But it’s not until he’s standing in the flower shop, the tiny one beside his favorite record store, that he realizes there’s one very important fact he doesn’t know.





	I Bloom Just For You

Clark would like to believe he knows Julian pretty well.

Julian had still been in the throes of puberty, when they first met; Clark had known him through the growth spurts and the teenaged outbursts. He’d heard the first few cracks in Julian’s voice, as it deepened to a silky tenor that sent shivers down his spine. He knows that Julian always withdraws when he’s especially upset, that he hides pain with bright smiles and flippant jokes. He recognizes the mischievous glint in Julian’s eyes when he has a particularly wicked idea, the tiny dimple that forms in his left cheek when he’s truly happy.

Clark knows that Julian’s favorite place to be is in the rain, face upturned to catch the drops. He knows that Julian prefers watching comedies, but acting in dark indie films. That Julian can be particularly creative when it comes to gift-giving, but has the imagination of a ten-year-old when naming his pets.

He knows Julian’s coffee order, the cream-and-sugar filled monstrosity topped with a mound of whipped cream. Julian’s favorite foods, restaurants, music.

But it’s not until he’s standing in the flower shop, the tiny one beside his favorite record store, that he realizes there’s one very important fact he _doesn’t_ know.

Roses are a definite no, he knows that much. He turns from the large display of them in the front window, peers curiously at a collection of daffodils and another of lilies. A small bundle of yellow-and-white blooms catch his eye, and he reaches for them, turning the bunch in his hands.

“Starflowers,” the florist tells him, as she rings up the purchase and wraps the flowers in brown paper, “A very good choice.”

“A star for my star,” Clark says with a smile.

He repeats the phrase again, when Julian opens the door for him. He takes the flowers with a bright smile, leaning in to sniff their scent.

“I realized I don’t actually know what your favorite flower is,” Clark admits with a twinge of guilt, “I had to take a wild guess.”

“Well they aren’t _these_ ,” Julian admits, “But I love them anyway.”

He kisses Clark lightly, turns away to track down a vase for the bright blooms. They wind up displayed on the windowsill of his bedroom, and Clark feels his heart swell each time he sees Julian carefully caring for the plant.

When the flowers begin to brown, he makes another trip to the florist.

He asks for help, this time, watches with rapt interest as the florist assembles a collection of of pure white tulips, yellow daffodils, and deep purple orchids. It might be cheating, to use three different flowers, but the resulting bouquet looks to beautiful to pass up.

Julian beams even brighter, this time, when Clark steps onto his set with the flowers.

“Is this a thing I should get used to?” He asks, fingers gingerly brushing soft petals, “You surprising me with flowers every week?”

“Well since you can’t be _easy_ and just tell me what you like, I have to turn this into a game,” Clark explains, grinning, “Tulips, daffodils, _and_ orchids. Though personally I’d bet on the orchids.”

“Sorry, but no. I could just tell you, if you want.”

“What would be the fun in that?”

The third try is a risk, Clark knows. Julian still looks touched by the bouquet of pale pink peonies, lets them sit in the middle of his kitchen until they wilt into nothing.

Deep purple violets get displayed on his dining table, where Julian sits and reads his scripts.

Orange blossoms and posies together make Julian laugh with delight, his face buried in the blooms as he inhales the sweet scent of the flowers.

“These are _your_ favorite,” Julian admonishes, when Clark presents him with an absolutely enormous bundle of sunflowers, “You told me that, remember? That you like them because they’re tall, like you?”

“Worth a shot,” Clark tells him. It does make him feel just the slightest bit guilty, though — that Julian knows his favorite flower, but he’s proving _useless_ at discovering Julian’s.

He’s a little desperate, the next time he visits the florist. She seems to be taking pity on him, now, abandons the bouquet she’s been arranging in favor of helping him.

“Daisies,” he says, wildly, “I know they’re a cliche but I feel like I’ve tried everything, and it’d be just like him to be completely contrary like that.”

She starts to assemble a bouquet of white-and-yellow daisies, and Clark leans against the counter to watch. His eyes catch on a small bundle of bright blue flowers, and he frowns.

“Would those look good, too?” He asks, pointing. The florist follows his gaze, smiling slightly as she reaches for the flowers. They get tucked in with the daisies, the blue contrasting with the lighter colors nicely.

“You have a good eye,” she says kindly, as Clark takes the finished bouquet, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

He feels oddly nervous, as he walks up Julian’s driveway. He knows this isn’t a big deal, that Julian’s enjoying the flowers regardless. Still, this feels important — like he’s somehow unlocking some of Julian’s secrets.

The wait after he rings the doorbell is excruciating. He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, holding the flowers in front of him.

Julian looks amused, when he opens the door.

“It’s only been two days,” he says, “You usually wait for the last one to die, but… _oh_.”

He gasps, just slightly, eyes fixed on the flowers in Clark’s hands.

“Wait, did I actually get it? Daisies, really?”

“No,” Julian murmurs. His hand drifts forward, plucking out a single blue bloom, “Forget-me-nots.”

This time, his smile is soft. Clark can see that tiny dimple in his left cheek, the way his eyes shine down at the flower in his hand.

“I thought they were pretty,” Clark admits, “I didn’t actually _know_ …”

“You still picked them. Besides, I wouldn’t have minded if you couldn’t figure it out.”

He rises on his toes, reaching up to slip the flower in his hand behind Clark’s ear. A rush of warmth rushes through Clark’s body, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to Julian’s lips.

That night, he holds Julian in his arms. He keeps one arm around Julian’s waist, the other raised to let his hand sweep through Julian’s hair. His eyes keep slipping over to Julian’s nightstand, to the cheery bunch of tiny blue flowers displayed where Julian will see them every morning.

“Hey,” Julian says, sleepily, drawing Clark’s attention, “I love you.”

Clark squeezes Julian’s waist, tilts his neck to kiss the top of his head.

“I love you too.”


End file.
